No one moved. It wasn’t shock or surprise; we were frozen with embarrassment, as if Dorr was an unliked little girl who was telling lies to get attention. Even with blood on her knife, no one took her seriously. This was Dorr, granddaughter of the Patriarch’s Man. She wasn’t a killer, she was just crazy and desperate.
Dorr looked around at our faces; she must have seen our pitying disbelief. “I really did it!” she said angrily. “Because he was a pig.”
“Dorr…” Steck began again, at the same time Leeta said, “Shush, Dorr! His family’s here.”
“My granddaughter is out of her mind,” Hakoore declared loudly. He jabbed a bony finger in her direction. “Go home, woman.”
“You know I’m not a woman,” Dorr said. And reaching down with her good arm, she pulled her simple cotton dress high above her waist.
She was wearing underwear—a tight white girdle at crotch level, probably intended to smooth the outline of her groin . . . binding the bulge of penis and testicles. Under a dress, the camouflage worked, but exposed now in the bright summer sunlight, the tell-tale contours were plain for all to see.
Hakoore made a choking sound. Leeta looked toward him, concern filling her eyes. They really are lovers, I thought. Hakoore must have told Leeta about Dorr long ago. Now our priestess was more worried about the old snake than about his crazy granddaughter.
Dorr let go of her dress. It fell haphazardly about her thighs, and she made no effort to smooth it. “Bonnakkut knew about me,” Dorr told the crowd. “He came to our house now and then to discuss law with my grandfather. He must have seen something about me that made him suspicious.”
Sure, I thought. Just by chance. I could imagine Dorr tormenting her grandfather whenever Bonnakkut came over…dropping veiled hints about her true gender just to give the old man shudders. She might have “accidentally” sat with her knees a little too open, or maybe scratched herself like a man, and eventually Bonnakkut caught on.
“He didn’t do anything right away,” Dorr said, “but when Lord Rashid and his Bozzle arrived…something about their presence infuriated Bonnakkut. He decided to take it out on me.”
I looked at Steck. Her face was stricken with dismay…and rightly so, I thought. Bonnakkut was just the sort to boil with rage over a Neut he couldn’t fight; so he turned his anger on Dorr, a Neut who didn’t have a Spark Lord for protector.
“He followed me into the woods and grabbed me,” Dorr went on. “He said he’d tell everyone my secret unless I…” She stopped; her gaze moved to Ivis, who was listening in mute bewilderment, as if this had nothing to do with her father. “He threatened me,” Dorr said in a lower voice. “And I got very very angry. Bonnakkut must not have known how angry I could get—he actually turned his back on me while we were talking. That was when I…”
She reached toward the knife, still stabbed deep into the lid of the barrel. Her fingers stroked its hilt.
“And you took his gun?” Rashid asked.
Dorr looked at him, silent for a moment. “Yes. I took his gun.”
“What did you do with it?”
“I threw it away.”
“Where?”
“Just away.” She turned back to the knife. “Tober Gove doesn’t need guns.”
Rashid gave an unreadable look to Steck; Steck didn’t return it. My mother’s eyes were downcast, guilty. One Neut precipitating the ruin of another.
The Spark Lord turned back to Dorr. “So you killed Bonnakkut because he threatened to expose you. But here you are, only an hour later, voluntarily telling the whole village…when no one has accused you, or even questioned you about the murder.”
She looked at him, then shrugged. “The truth would come out eventually. I didn’t feel like waiting.”
“So you’re saying you killed him,” Mintz suddenly said.
“I slit his throat like a hog.”
Mintz’s spear lay near him on the ground. He snatched it up and leveled it at her; but Rashid moved quickly in front of Dorr, blocking any attack with his armored body. “Let’s not do anything hasty,” he said. “Tobers believe in fair trials, don’t they?”
“For Neuts?” Dorr laughed as if the idea was genuinely funny. “Neuts get beaten and banished merely for existing. When one has actually committed murder…”
She looked at Mintz and the other warriors expectantly, but they showed no stomach for tangling with a Spark Lord twice in one day. Mintz let the tip of his spear sink until it touched the ground.
“Good,” Rashid nodded. “We’ll all be smart about this.”
“Too bad,” Dorr said to the warriors. “You had your chance.”
Her free hand darted into the sling wrapped around her other arm. She pulled out a wineskin, its top already open, and squirted a stream of brown fluid into her mouth. Steck leapt forward, but Dorr had already swallowed.
She smiled as if she was pleased with herself.
Steck grabbed Dorr under the armpits and kicked her legs out from under her; Dorr’s eyes widened in surprise, but her mouth stayed closed as Steck set her down roughly onto the grass. “Open up!” Steck yelled, trying to force her fingers past Dorr’s lips. “Open your mouth!”
Dorr shook her head, teeth clenched tight.
“What goes down can come up again,” Steck replied. “If you don’t let me stick my finger down your throat, I’ll punch you in the stomach.”
Dorr tried to cover her mouth with her hand.
“Fullin!” Steck snapped. “Help me.”
I knelt and held Dorr’s head steady as Steck tried to pry her jaw open. Dorr was still smiling, even as she resisted. Her eyes glittered, as if she were laughing at us.
“Don’t hurt her!” Hakoore cried. “You’re hurting her.”
“Not her,” Mintz sneered. “It.”
Steck glared at him in fury, then suddenly slammed the heel of her palm into Dorr’s belly. Dorr gasped; her jaw loosened for a split second, and I got my fingers into her mouth. Her teeth clamped down on me…not hard, but enough to show she could do damage if she wanted. The look in her eyes was easy to read—if I didn’t pull my hand out, she’d bite with all her strength.
Carefully, I drew my hand away. She actually gave a coy lick to my fingers as they slid out.
I remembered her kissing me.
“Yes,” Dorr murmured, her old half whisper. Perhaps only Steck and I heard. “Your father would never forgive me if I hurt you…your violinist’s hands.”
“Let us help you, Dorr!” Steck cried. “This is such a waste.”
Dorr lifted her hand and cupped Steck’s cheek. “Take good care of him. You’ve always been…”
She suddenly gagged, as if she were going to throw up without our help. The sound turned into a cough, then a convulsion. I found myself holding her with all my strength, somehow believing she would be all right if I could stop her shaking.
Rashid leaned over me. “Can you guess what she took?”
I shook my head. “She knew a lot about vegetable extracts. She learned from her mother.”
Hakoore groaned. Leeta stood beside him, holding his hand.
Dorr lasted another twenty minutes. Eventually, we did make her vomit…after she was too weak to fight us. By then, her convulsions were coming every few seconds: long, shuddering spasms with all her muscles tightening, bucking, nearly bending her double.
It was not an easy death.
Toward the end, someone pulled me away from her body: Veen, Hakoore’s sister, stone-faced as she watched her grandniece die. “There’s nothing you can do,” Veen said. “And you don’t want to become her death-husband, do you?”
I didn’t know if a Neut could have a death-husband. But for Dorr’s sake, I hoped one of the gods would accept her.
EIGHTEEN
A Chicken Foot for Zephram
Rashid carried Dorr’s body into the Council Hall where the last rites would have some privacy. He said he didn’t worry about touching the corpse; his armor would protect him.
Hakoore and Leeta went to conduct the rites together. From the look on their faces, they didn’t want spectators. Rashid, Steck and I quietly slipped out the side door.
The sunlight outside was bright enough to make your eyes tear up.
Steck let out a long breath. “Shit,” she said.
“Shit indeed,” Rashid nodded. “Hands up, anyone who believed that woman’s confession.”
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“There was no reason for her to do it,” Rashid replied. “She wasn’t backed into a corner; no one even suspected her. And she didn’t sound like someone driven to come clean out of remorse.”
“Maybe she was proud of doing it,” Steck said.
“Why?” Rashid asked. “Because Bonnakkut was obnoxious? People need more motive than that.”
“She said Bonnakkut was threatening her,” I said. “He wanted her to…”
I didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“What did he want?” Rashid asked. “Dorr tried to suggest it was something sexual. Is that really likely? Considering how he reacted the night before, do you think Bonnakkut would lust after a Neut?”
“Sexual attacks aren’t about lust,” Steck answered. “They’re about rage and frustration. Bonnakkut was enraged over my presence, and frustrated he couldn’t do anything about it. With me out of his reach, maybe he settled for venting his anger on another Neut…raping another Neut…”
“I won’t say it’s impossible,” Rashid replied, “but it’s strange. Why this irresistible urge to molest Dorr at…what was it, seven thirty in the morning? Couldn’t he wait till nightfall when there’d be less chance of getting caught? And couldn’t he pick a better place than that path? I assume people use the path all the time, right, Fullin?”
“Only my…” I stopped. “Actually, yes, a lot of people use the path.”
“See?” Rashid asked. “Too many things that don’t add up. So you have to ask, why would Dorr lie? Is there anyone in town she’d die to protect? Someone who might be the real murderer?”
He was looking at me. I gave what I hoped would look like a careless shrug. “Maybe her grandfather…but I can’t imagine he killed Bonnakkut. Hakoore can barely walk on his own, let alone kill a top warrior and run away before anyone came on the scene.”
“He gives that impression,” Rashid admitted, “although it’s wrong to take anything for granted. Still, even if Hakoore can secretly sprint like an ostrich, this isn’t his kind of crime. He strikes me as subtle. He’d try to make it look like an accident, or blame it on someone he didn’t like. Who else could Dorr be protecting? Did she have a lover?”
“Not Dorr,” I answered quickly.
Rashid looked at me with curiosity.
“Hakoore kept her on too short a rope,” I explained. “He wanted her all to herself.”
“Lovers usually find a way,” Rashid said. “But if you don’t know of anyone…”
Above our heads, a bell rang from the Council Hall steeple. It was a high soprano chime, the smallest bell of the four that hung in the tower.
“What’s that?” Rashid asked.
“An alert,” I answered. “One hour till Master Crow and Mistress Gull arrive…assuming they haven’t been scared off by everything that’s happened today.”
Rashid and Steck met each other’s gaze. “Maybe we’d better get going,” the Spark Lord said.
“Going?” I repeated. “I thought this is what you came for.”
“We’ll watch from someplace with a better view,” Rashid replied. “Maybe Beacon Point. That way we can see where Master Crow and Mistress Gull come from.”
I stared at them suspiciously. “Are you two up to something?”
“How often do I have to say we aren’t going to interfere?” Rashid asked. “Go. Get ready. Have a good Commitment.”
I could have argued; but the truth was I had other things on my mind, and I needed time to myself. “All right,” I said. “You’ll still be here when I get back?”
“What kind of a mother would she be,” Rashid asked, “if she didn’t want to know how her son Committed? I must admit I’m curious myself.”
“That makes three of us,” I told him.
“Good,” Rashid said, “keep us guessing. Now kiss your mom, and we’ll be off.”
Steck elbowed him. She and I settled for shaking hands.
I avoided the square—it would only be full of people babbling about Dorr and Bonnakkut. Instead, I took the route Steck must have taken herself when she left from the side door of the Council Hall and went to Zephram’s house.
Along the path where Bonnakkut died.
Of course, I had lied to Rashid; the trail wasn’t frequently used. It only went to Zephram’s; no one walked that way except people going to visit him.
Why would Bonnakkut have been out there?
Dorr said the First Warrior had been following her. Rashid thought her whole confession was a lie, but suppose it wasn’t.
That only changed the question: why had Doit been heading for Zephram’s?
I thought back to the days when I was fourteen, and she was forever lingering outside the house. Especially at times when she knew I would be heading to the marsh for practice.
Suppose she wasn’t waiting for a glimpse of me, or to tag along and eavesdrop on my playing.
Suppose she had been waiting for me to leave.
And in the past few years, when I had been living with Cappie down by the waterfront, Dorr could visit Zephram almost any time. No one would notice, if the two of them were discreet.
Dorr could move so quietly when she wanted to.
When she was dying, she’d said, “Your father would never forgive me if I hurt you…your violinist’s hands.” And to Steck: “Take good care of him. You’ve always been…”
You’ve always been what? Zephram’s true love?
Had Dorr killed herself because she thought Zephram would leave her for Steck?
I didn’t know; but I urgently needed to confront my foster father.
Zephram sat at the table where we had breakfast. Tears dampened his cheeks.
“You know about Dorr?” I asked.
He nodded. “I was taking Waggett down to the square when I heard.”
“Where’s Waggett now?”
“Cappie was in the square too; I left him with her. He knew something was wrong. Maybe I was even crying, I don’t know. It scared him. So I thought it was better…”
“Cappie will take care of him,” I said. “What about you?”
He shrugged dully.
“So you and Dorr…” I couldn’t finish the sentence.
“Yes. Me and Dorr.”
Neither of us said anything for a while.
“How long?” I asked.
“Years,” he said. “Since before she Committed.” He gave a sad laugh. “It’s pathetic, isn’t it? An old man and a young woman.”
“A young Neut.”
“Stop right there, Fullin. I don’t want you sneering at Neuts. Not today.”
I didn’t fight him. “Which of you started it?”
“No one ever starts these things,” he said. “Dorr always liked talking to me about life in the South. Even as a young teenager, she probably intended to run away once she Committed: to get out of that house. By the time she was nineteen, she was coming here almost every day. We both pretended she was just picking my brains about being a merchant in Feliss City, but…then it went beyond that. Dorr was the first person in Tober Cove who actually wanted to hear the things I knew about business, and I was the only person who could speak three words to her without worrying what Hakoore would think.”
“And what did Hakoore think?” I asked. “Did he know about you two?”
“He knew. She made sure he knew. Dorr loved getting under her grandfather’s skin. And he wasn’t as upset as she thought he’d be. It’s easy to picture Hakoore as heartlessly rigid, but he lost his own daughter to madness, and when it cam
e to his granddaughter…even as he lectured Dorr about ‘godless outsiders’ I think he was secretly pleased she wasn’t as lonely and isolated as her mother. Close to Commitment Day, he even suggested he might allow a marriage…”
“Oh gods!” I groaned, “how brainless could he get?” I wanted to bury my face in my hands. “Accepting Dorr’s relationship with you? Suggesting you get married . . .”
“What’s wrong with that?” Zephram protested.
“Dorr didn’t want to get married!” I snapped at him. “She wanted to get out! Out of the cove, away from Hakoore. Marrying you would just be another tie to keep her here. It was a threat, not a concession. Hakoore practically held a knife to her throat and forced her to raise the stakes. To Commit Neut.”
“No,” Zephram murmured. “Dorr did that to please me.”
“To please you?” I repeated. “Don’t tell me you gave Dorr the happy story about your Neut friend down south! You couldn’t be that stupid…not after the trouble with Steck.”
“I never talked to Dorr about Neuts,” Zephram replied. “Not before she Committed. But Dorr was five when Steck…made her choice. Dorr was old enough to remember some of what happened, and young enough to have it all confused. She got the idea…”
He waved his hand as if groping for the right words.
“That you had been Steck’s lover after she turned Neut?” I suggested. “That you liked Neuts?”
Zephram ran his fingers through his hair; the hair was damp, soaked with sweat. He said, “Maybe I should have talked to her about Neuts before she Committed. But I wanted to stay clear of the topic—to avoid influencing Dorr like I influenced Steck. Once or twice, Dorr even brought the subject up…and I avoided it. It seemed like the right thing.”
Sometimes there is no right thing, I thought to myself. Aloud, I said, “And when she Committed Neut?”
“I stayed with her,” my father replied. “Of course I did. She was the same person. And I wasn’t about to abandon her when she…for my sake…”
“Okay, sure.” I didn’t want to hurt him by pursuing my thoughts aloud, but I wondered about Dorr. Had she really thought Zephram would prefer her as Neut? Or had she Committed Neut to horrify her grandfather, then invented a second story to tell Zephram? Maybe she was afraid Zephram would turn her away unless he thought it was his own fault.
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